


Snuffles

by EliseEtcetera



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Bossuet is an awesome boyfriend, Comfort Objects, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Verbal Abuse, very brief mentions of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliseEtcetera/pseuds/EliseEtcetera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joly comes home in the middle of a panic attack; Bossuet talks him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snuffles

Bossuet lounged lazily on the sofa, half watching T.V. as he waited for Joly to come home. He’d finished the few chores that had needed doing around the house; the dishes, the laundry, (he’d even taken the time to fold and put away Joly’s clothes precisely the way the younger man liked it, and felt quite accomplished at mastering yet another one of his lover’s quirks), and was now enjoying a tall glass of raspberry iced tea.

 

He’d closed his eyes to rest them and was hovering pleasantly between consciousness and sleep when he heard the door to the apartment slam. He opened his eyes and glanced at the clock above the TV. “Hey, you’re home early, what’s—“

 

Bossuet was cut off by what sounded like a sob. He stood and quickly walked into the other room. “Joly?”

 

Joly sat slumped against the front door, crying and breathing raggedly. He was shaking as he chewed on his bottom lip and sobbed painfully. Bossuet sank to the floor and pulled Joly into his lap carefully.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked concernedly, petting his lover’s shaggy, brown hair.

 

Joly sobbed roughly into Bossuet’s shoulder, wetting his t-shirt with tears, spit and blood from his raw lip. “I n-need Snuffles,” he gasped out as his shaking hands clutched Bossuet’s shoulders.

 

Bossuet nodded and whispered, “You have to let go, love, just for a second.”

 

Joly nodded shakily and slid off of Bossuet’s lap, his fingers still clutching at his shirt. Bossuet quickly put his arm under Joly’s knees and gently scooped the lithe man up.

 

“Shhh,” he breathed into Joly’s ear when he felt the younger man hyperventilating even faster. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s OK, Joly,” He said, carefully laying the panicking man on his side when they reached the bed and knelt on the floor next to him.

 

This wasn’t the worst panic attack Joly had had before, and it certainly wasn’t the first Bossuet had helped him through, but no matter how many times this happened, it still scared Bossuet more than he was willing to admit. The older man swallowed his fear and tried his hardest to suppress the shakiness of his own hands.

 

“Jol’, honey, I need you to look at me, OK?” Bossuet gently cupped Joly’s face and stroked his cheeks softly as their eyes met. Joly’s breathing slowed only slightly, his chest still heaved with every exhale and each inhale was a painful wheeze. Bossuet ran one hand over Joly’s forehead and through his hair while his other hand grabbed the small, grey, stuffed bunny that rested on the bedside table. He pressed it into Joly’s hand, who immediately buried his face into its belly.

 

The hand that wasn’t clutching the small bunny reached out for Bossuet, his fingers grasping the older man’s t-shirt and when Joly tugged at him gently, Bossuet took the hint and climbed onto the bed, settling behind his lover. He wrapped his arm around Joly’s waist, pressed his face against the back of the other man’s neck and whispered the words that, over the past few years, he’d learned calmed Joly down the fastest, “You’re safe, I’m here, let it go and breathe.”

 

Joly nodded shakily, his free hand finding Bossuet’s and squeezing it with trembling fingers; the other pressing the soft stuffed animal to his face even harder. Bossuet ran their joined hands over Joly’s stomach soothingly, feeling it hitch with every breath.

 

“I’m right here,” he breathed, the words ghosting over Joly’s skin. “I’m not leaving. Just breathe with me, OK?”

 

Bossuet started taking deep, measured breaths, his own anxiety easing when he felt Joly attempt to do the same.

 

Slowly, gradually, Joly’s breathing became less labored, his tears ceased and the violent tremors wracking his body became fewer. He pulled the stuffed animal away from his face, pressing it to his chest instead, and turned to lie on his back. He leaned up to kiss Bossuet needily, his breath hitching.

 

“Thank you,” He whispered against Bossuet’s lips when they parted.

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Bossuet murmured, kissing his lover again.

 

“I do,” Joly said, pressing himself even closer to Bossuet’s body. He buried his face into the older man’s neck and inhaled deeply.

 

Bossuet smiled and stroked Joly’s stomach slowly, waiting patiently for him to be ready to talk.

 

After a few minutes of silence, Joly sniffled and pulled his face away from Bossuet’s neck. “My dad was at the hospital today. He must’ve had a meeting with one of the directors or something.” The young man took a deep shaky breath before continuing. “I guess they wanted him to meet the interns. They had us all lined up and he came and shook everyone’s hand…except mine.”

 

Bossuet sighed deeply and hugged Joly even tighter. His lover had spent the last few years trying to get past the issues he had with his family, and this event could’ve done nothing but hinder the process.

 

“It was so humiliating, Bossuet!” Joly cried, tears starting to fall again. “And it’s not like I was at the end of the line and he just didn’t see me; I was right in the middle. He didn’t even look at me. He just skipped over me, like I was invisible. And of course, everyone there knew he was my father; the first day of my internship, every single person asked me if I was related to the _amazing_ Dr. Joly. Everyone there knows I’m his son,” Joly’s voice turned bitter. “The son of Dr. Émile Joly, world renowned neural surgeon and to have him publicly ignore me like that…”

 

He let out a mirthless laugh. “And it gets worse, Bossuet. It actually gets worse.”

 

_Joly squeaked slightly as a hand shot out and grabbed him. He found himself in a corridor off the main hallway, standing in front of his father. The elder man was glaring at his son, his arms crossed over his chest._

_Joly swallowed and hoped his voice would be steady. “What do you want, father?”_

_Dr. Joly didn’t speak, just continued to stare at his son. Joly leaned against the wall at his back and sighed. “So, what, are you just going to gawk at me?” He scoffed and started to walk away when his father’s clear, stern voice stopped him in his tracks._

_“Are you still a fag?”_

_Joly closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as the ugly word triggered every painful memory of his teen years. He exhaled slowly and turned to face his father again. “If you’re asking me if I’m still gay, the answer is yes. I have an amazing boyfriend who loves me and I love him.” Joly’s voiced hardened as he spat, “So yes, I’m still a fag.”_

_His father looked at him, his eyes narrowed in indignation. “Love?” He scoffed. The elder man started walking away. “Disgusting,” he hissed, brushing past his son and leaving the young man choking back his tears and struggling to breathe._

 

Joly sobbed weakly and brought his bunny back up to his face. Bossuet bit his lip as tears fell from his own eyes. “I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered, pressing kisses to his boyfriend’s neck.

 

Joly shook his head in frustration. “And then, when I went back to work, my hands were shaking so hard, I kept dropping the syringes, and I kept losing count when I was taking blood pressures...I just kept fucking everything up!” The younger man inhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down. Bossuet smiled slightly, proud of his lover for trying to remain as calm as he could.

 

“My supervisor, Dr. Marchand, she saw how upset I was and she told me to take the rest of the day off.” Joly paused and sighed. “I don’t know whether to be thankful or embarrassed or angry at myself for not being able to keep my composure.”

 

Bossuet tilted Joly’s head up slightly to kiss him again. “Listen to me,” he said softly. “You handled what happened in the best way you knew how and I am so proud of you. If what happened today happened a year ago, we wouldn’t be here, with you calm and breathing.” The older man paused and blinked back tears.

 

“You’d be hurting yourself and I wouldn’t be here to help you.” Bossuet pressed his lips to Joly’s forehead. “But we’re not there, and we’ll never be there again.”

 

Joly smiled tearfully and rolled their bodies so that he was resting on top of Bossuet. He cupped Bossuet’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. “I love you so much,” he whispered when the kiss broke.

 

“I love you, too, beautiful,” Bossuet smiled, resting his hands on Joly’s back. “Do you need anything? I made some iced tea earlier. I burned my hand on the stove when I was brewing it, but that was to be expected.”

 

“Oh, poor darling, how bad was it? First degree, second?” Joly asked worriedly, carefully grabbing Bossuet’s hands and inspecting them.

 

Bossuet bit back a grin and closed his fingers around Joly’s. “Don’t worry, love, not even first.” He brought Joly’s hands up to his lips to kiss them softly. “Now, about that tea?”

 

Joly smiled and nodded. “Sounds good,” he said, sliding off his lover’s body. “Can we sleep? I’m pretty drained.”

 

Bossuet nodded and squeezed Joly’s hand gently. “Of course,” he replied, kissing the younger man before he stood. “Be right back,” he said as he exited the room.

 

Joly lay on the bed for a few moments before he started taking his work clothes off to sleep. He briefly considered putting on his pajamas, but decided against it; he enjoyed the feeling of Bossuet’s skin against his far too much.

 

Bossuet grinned widely when he entered the bedroom a few minutes later, carrying two glasses full of iced tea. Joly was lying on the bed wearing only his boxers, still holding Snuffles close to his chest.

 

“And I thought you were tired,” He said teasingly as he handed Joly his glass.

 

Joly stuck his tongue out playfully and was about to take a sip of his drink when Bossuet swiftly leaned down and captured his tongue between his teeth before kissing the younger man deeply.

 

“Not helping your case,” Bossuet whispered when they broke apart.

 

Joly laughed and took a swig from his glass. “Get in bed, stud.”

 

“As my prince commands,” Bossuet said, bowing deeply.

 

“Bossuet, did you wash these glasses thor—“

 

“Shit!”

 

Joly looked up just in time to see Bossuet trip over what seemed to be nothing and land face first on the floor. His drink was not spared; most landed on his torso, the rest misting over the bed.

 

“Honey, are you OK?” Joly asked, peering over the foot of the bed.

 

“Never better,” Bossuet laughed as he stood, his entire front soaked. He carefully peeled the wet t-shirt from his body, saying, “I wasn’t planning on wearing this anyway.” He wiggled out of his jeans before joining Joly, who was laughing, on the bed.

 

“Nooo!” the younger man squealed when Bossuet tried to cuddle him. “You’re all sticky!”

 

Bossuet pouted playfully. “Are you going to make me take a shower?”

 

Joly sighed and set his glass down on the bedside table before sliding closer to Bossuet and wrapping his arms around him. “No, I won’t,” he said, smiling. “Just this once.

 

“How gracious of you,” Bossuet snorted as Joly slapped him teasingly. His eyes landed on Snuffles, resting on the bed between them. He brought the plushie up and placed it between their heads. “Can’t forget our little friend, can we?”

 

Joly smiled sadly, “It’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He sighed slowly. “I mean, I’m twenty-four years old and I still depend on a stuffed animal.”

 

“Hey,” Bossuet said softly, his hands gently wrapping around Joly’s wrists. His thumbs stroked over the faded scars in his skin. “It’s better than what you used to depend on. Even if you need Snuffles for the rest of your life, it’s better than you hurting yourself.” He leaned forward to press their lips together. “So much better.”

 

Joly nodded and buried his face into Bossuet’s neck. “You are so wonderful to me,” He whispered, just loud enough for his lover to hear.

 

Bossuet nuzzled Joly’s hair and hugged him close. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Original thread: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11823.html?thread=3202863#t3202863


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